


Bond Air: After the Fall

by EmeraldEyes8917



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock)-centric, Character POV, Duty, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, F/M, Gen, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, POV Anthea (Sherlock), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldEyes8917/pseuds/EmeraldEyes8917
Summary: When news of the failure of the Bond Air operation reaches Mycroft Holmes, as his world falls to pieces, he summons his loyal aide, Anthea to his residence to plot out the next crucial few hours: to confront Irene Adler and discover his brother, Sherlock's part that he played in bringing down such a complex operation.What follows is a night of revelation as Anthea is concealed within Mr Holmes' residence, only able to watch the events unfold and unable to intervene.Does it spell certain doom for her feelings for Sherlock Holmes?A POV retelling of the crucial phone unlocking scene from A Scandal in Belgravia as a 'what if?' scenario involving the character of Anthea, whose personality and character is drawn through inspiration by a long-running Twitter roleplay.
Relationships: Anthea & Irene Adler, Anthea & Mycroft Holmes, Anthea/Sherlock (one-sided), Irene Adler & Sherlock Holmes
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Being summoned by Mycroft Holmes was not an unusual occurrence during her years-long career as his close, personal aide. Many would often speculate as to the nature of her role, just how much of a sacrifice it was and what the nature of the costs would be.

For her, it was not as much a professional duty but a willingness to be useful and loyal. She never feared to be dressed down or bullied, given their rapport and his tendency to be polite and value her worth by not terrorising her.

However, one cold afternoon, while she was taking a rare break from the office and relaxing in her home with only the quiet playing of classical music filling the empty house, her BlackBerry sounds with a message, cutting through the violin concerto melody, requesting that she come to Mr. Holmes' country house immediately.

The message is concluded with the curt sign-off, 'We have much to discuss that is of the utmost urgency. As soon as you can, please and without delay. MH'

Her mind begins to race with all sorts of possibilities, for being summoned to his home rarely occurred. She had been told that only when he could not arrive in person when matters of state came to a climax or he was incapacitated for whatever reason was she allowed to enter his home, or even to retrieve a change of clothes for a trip arranged at short notice.

The cup of tea she had mindfully prepared earlier was gulped down in seconds, her long black coat flung on and she gets in her car without a moment to waste, prepared to break the speed limit to reach him as soon as she could.

Nothing could prepare her in any way for the events that were about to unfold.

Having no time to change, her casual outfit of a cream jumper, black jeans and flat shoes with her hair in loose waves was a foreign sight when meeting her superior in any situation, but needs must when the defense of the realm was at hand.

She barely had time to dab on some tinted lip blam to protect against the bracing winds as she made her way up the drive of Mr. Holmes' manor after parking her car in the garage at the side of the house.

Knocking on the large oak door and pushing it in after Mr. Holmes instructed her that it was unlocked via text during her car journey over, she makes her way inside the grand hall with its opulent, medieval decor, passing into the dining hall and finds him sitting at the head of a long table, appearing quite dishevelled, his hair mussed as if it had been tousled several times, his jacket hanging on the back of the chair and his top two shirt buttons undone with an empty crystal glass beside him.

There are some traces of a dark, amber liquid at the bottom of the glass that she would guess was brandy, her observation skills not as honed but still quite sharp for someone in her position.

It was in that fraction of a moment when she knew that this was serious.

What follows is a quiet, understated and civil conversation, where he outlines the facts of the urgent matter: Bond Air had been effectively grounded due to a leak originating from the Ministry of Defence and exacerbated by the interference of Miss Irene Adler and another person of interest who he did not wish to name at this juncture.

She was deliberately left in the dark about Jim Moriarty's uncovering of the operation, and it may have been for good reason, for she was already distressed by this news.

Mycroft continues after a long, drawn-out sigh, "This person who assisted in Miss Adler's data code-cracking... I have yet to speak to him to discover his motives, though I can surely guess what they are... but I cannot make presumptions nor can I make bricks without clay, as you understand, my dear."

Anthea's hands are shaking, but she keeps them clasped together in order to mask her growing anxiety. She had never seen Mycroft so rattled and it was making her feel off-kilter. He was usually so cool in command, even under the greatest pressure, but in this present moment, her brain had not caught up to the collateral damage of planning, costs, acquisition of bodies and manpower it took in order to even formulate an operation on such a scale like Bond Air.

And now it was all gone, almost like a puff of smoke.

As the cold shock of reality sets in, she asks the question of the hour, "So what happens now?"

Mycroft sits back in his chair in a half-slumped position as he once again contemplates the gravity of this entire situation, "The plane was due to take off tomorrow evening from Heathrow. I must arrange for its disposal, and have the corpses moved and given decent burials before we can even think to rethink this operation ever again. It's a good a place as any to have a brief conversation."

"On the plane, sir?"

He nods, already gazing off into the distance and not giving her his full attention which did not make her feel less at ease, more than likely already thinking of the next steps while he sat in front of her, like a 3-D construct in his mind.

As gruesome as it appeared, she surmised that it was still very in character. The entire Bond Air business had felt too macabre to her, and she had avoided working too closely on the operation, leaving it to more seasoned agents with stronger stomachs than herself.

Softly, she ventures, "What do you want me to do, sir?"

Mycroft sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at her with his brow creased in a deep frown, "I intend to bring Miss Adler here for a casual tete a tete, to hopefully persuade her to not take her meddling and destructive tendencies any further. She may leak it further or cause more damage, which would be likely given her penchant for embarrassing people who have amassed great power, but I cannot make predictions and I am not sure as to her intentions. She is an enigma and a purveyor of scandals. If she has her way, this may very well bring the entire service into disrepute..."

He runs a hand down his face, "For now, you are to remain here. I will fetch her shortly to try and negotiate some kind of agreement. Money, favours, whatever it takes."

A pause as he considers his next few words, "I need you here in case she gets out of hand... I need... I suppose I need..."

Now he cannot even make the words come out, so she kindly supplies without a hint of irony, "A woman's touch, sir?"

A dry chuckle escapes, "Yes. And I need only the best."

Her smile is fond and warm, a rare moment of levity between them among the respect and the professional courtesy they had fostered through the years as she reaches out to touch his arm, "I am sorry that this has happened, sir. But it will be fixed somehow."

"I truly hope so..."

Sitting up that bit straighter, he subtly stretches his spine and gets to his feet, "Well... time to make the appointment and make this all go away. Somehow..."

While he appeared to be quite shattered, the icy resolve he was known for was slowly coming to the fore once again.

Anthea remains seated where she is, gazing out the window that was behind him, focusing as she needed to on the task at hand, knowing she had to be exactly what he needed right now.

Switching to diligent research mode, she asks, "Would I have any information on the person in the Ministry? I could research it for you and make sure he is disciplined appropriately."

Mr. Holmes has retrieved his suit jacket and shrugs it on, "No need to do so. The man was in the clutches of Miss Adler at the time and wanted to be a seasoned, intelligent show-off for The Woman. She is the instigator who brought the information to be deciphered and holds so much more on her phone that has been pilfered from many others with similar peccadillos. He is inconsequential at this moment. Though perhaps I may get my hands on him one day... but not today. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Taking out her BlackBerry, she types out a note to herself, putting the facts in order should his masters request an official report, saying in an absent-minded manner, "This other person... the one who she brought the information to Miss Adler... are they an associate of Moriarty?"

He had stepped behind her and is looking in the glass of the large mirror over the unlit fireplace, straightening his tie, "No, he is not."

In an off-hand manner, she queries, "I can look them up if we have a name..."

By now, she has stepped towards the suit of armour in the shape of a horse prepared for battle, gathering her own senses.

A long pause where he does not answer her.

Anthea looks back over her shoulder, her eyes questioning, "Sir?"

Now he looks stricken again and quite hesitant before he brings himself to divulge the rest of the story to her, "There is a reason why I am only involving you and keeping it as discrete as possible... and you may need to sit down again."

A long pause before she does so with growing unease and does not take her eyes off him, "Who is it, sir?"

Leaning an elbow against the mantelpiece, he murmurs, "It was Sherlock..."

Instantly, she covers her mouth, making a tiny noise of fright, the chair almost certainly moving back an inch on the carpeted floor, and was it not so sturdy, she would have pitched herself backward.

Mycroft immediately crosses the room, taking her shoulders gently but insistently, "Steel yourself, Anthea, I need you to be objective here. Steady... steady now... it is a shock but you must be objective."

Blinking back tears, all she can do is nod, her sob muffled. She could deal with the shame of almost crying in front of Mycroft, but the notion of Sherlock unwittingly or knowingly betraying the service and causing this catastrophe swept over her like a cold shower.

Whether it was the consequences for Mycroft by family circumstance or her own growing sentimental feelings for his brother, this entire mess was made even worse.

He continues in a softer tone, "Stay here, compose yourself and be ready to intervene should it be required. I will talk to them both, get a clearer picture as to how this whole catastrophe came to be and we will figure it out from there. Alright?"

She nods again, shuddering slightly and he lightly squeezes her shoulders to truly steady her, before he admits, "I was not going to tell you before they came here... but reason and logic dictated that given your connection to me and your... affiliation with my brother, that I should break it to you now."

Their eyes have locked and hers are nothing more than shimmering, fearful pools and he is laser-focused on keeping her calm, "Will you do this for me? For the service? And... ultimately, for my brother?"

Lowering her hands down from her mouth, trusting herself not to give in to her emotions, she whispers, "Yes, Mr. Holmes."

"Good. Good. Now then... I think you need a small draught to steady your nerves."

Together, they share a small measure of brandy in two crystal glasses with an ice-cube dissolved in each, though she knocks her own back quite quickly, earning her a small smile of admiration.

A few minutes later after some phone calls to arrange transportation for himself, a car to Baker Street for his brother and another for Miss Adler to follow, Mycroft departs with his suit perfectly straightened and his demeanour once again one of determined authority, and sets out into the night, leaving her alone with her thoughts, the most strong being the urge to throw the empty glass against the wall so it would shatter.

But instead, after turning on the lamps and filling the room with warm light, she goes into a smaller antechamber corridor that adjoined the dining room, a velvet-covered chair propped against the wall, the pantry and kitchen at the opposite end. On the wall are paintings of gentlemen on horses, draped in velvets and sitting in regal courts. It would almost have been a wing of an art gallery if it not an actual mansion home.

There she waited, rubbing her arms against the cold that was not only in the air but that lingered after being told such terrible news, preparing herself to face into whatever this negotiation would be.

Despite wanting to run far away from this catastrophe, to shut her eyes and not have to bear witness, she was still resigned to this post.

Whether she would be needed, she did not know, and so she resigned herself to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time arrives for Irene Adler to be escorted from the manor estate to an unknown location. 
> 
> Despite it being the lowest and most shattering night of her life, Anthea opts to play the empathy card before Miss Adler was due to vanish for good.

There is scarcely time to decompress or deal with her mounting emotions. The night was far from over, thanks in part to what just transpired and she would not be dealing with a long list of demands, rather transporting a distraught, ruined woman to a place where she could figure out her next move.  
  
Whether they would take her into custody or not, she was not even certain. It all depended now on the extent of Mycroft's mercy, and it was in short supply this night.  
  
It was the rarest moment of co-operation between Mycroft and Sherlock that she had seen with her own eyes, and it was not sitting right with her, much like a cannonball weighing in the pit of her stomach.  
  
They had succeeded in retrieving the phone of scandalous secrets and information, the insurance that Miss Adler held over so many men of authority, but had left her defenseless in their wake.  
  
She would have to deal with that at a later juncture, for a moment later, Mycroft says her name just once, and she pushes in the door after hastily retrieving her own black coat, her expression a frozen mask of warm politeness.  
  
Given the turmoil that had only just been quelled internally, she can only bring herself to look towards Miss Adler after a mental count of five and can only nod as she is given instructions to take a car to a more discrete location and to check-in before the night was over, not trusting the burning lump in her throat that would cause her voice to crack.  
  
"I see no reason as to incarcerate this woman or cause her any more distress. On the strict promise that she will not cause any more issues, she is free to leave."  
  
Mycroft's tone is a touch more civil than before, and it may have been mistaken for kindness once upon a time. But she knew from his entire posture that he was subtly triumphant, but would not laud it over Miss Adler. He was not the show-off in the family, after all.  
  
He looks to Miss Adler, and delivers one last parting remark, "You played a mighty game, Miss Adler. But even the mightiest foes can be defeated. I bear you no ill will beyond this night. Whatever the future holds for you, I wish you well."  
  
Miss Adler's face twists into a grimace and she turns away, walking on unsteady legs back towards the table, leaning against it and clumsily retrieving her handbag, not saying a word.  
  
Mycroft does not appear deterred, only whispers to Anthea, "Make sure she does not make an attempt to escape your care for this short time. Ensure that there is a grade 4 active status placed on wherever she chooses to be dropped off. I want to know her movements and who she is in contact with. No more surprises, understood?"  
  
She manages to reply to him with a quiet 'Yes, sir' and he excuses himself from the room, departing presumably to his study, already on his own mobile to make some more phone calls to those in higher authority to deliver some measure of good news.  
  
Alone with Miss Adler, she gives the other woman a moment before she approaches, and as she turns around, the tear tracks glimmer in the lamplight, but she raises her chin in a show of defiance.  
  
Still ready for battle...  
  
All she does is put a kindly arm around her, saying gently, "It's getting late and we have a bit to go still. Come with me."  
  
Sensing the trembling that has only intensified since both men have left the room, she drapes her coat around her shoulders, which Irene holds onto without putting her arms into the sleeves.  
  
Miss Adler offers no resistance or argument in those few seconds, allowing herself to be led through the room, out the main door, and outside into the night, where Anthea allows her to get into the Bentley without any real hassle, and driving into the night.  
  
There is a palpable silence in the car, with only the sound of the engine, the wind rushing by and the clicking of the indicator as the driver made a few turns on the journey.  
  
Irene Adler did not ask for any assistance, nor did she beg to be saved or even try to appeal to Anthea as another woman who may take pity on her. The time for any favours had long since passed.  
  
Her tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, her arms remained tightly around her middle, hugging in tightly with the nails of her left hand digging into her right upper arm.  
  
Anthea types on her phone and does not attempt to make conversation or suggest avenues or options for her passenger. It was only her task to ensure that Miss Adler did not cause any more strife or troubles for the government anymore. It would seem that without her camera-phone, she was helpless, though she was still in possession of her personal mobile phone in her black handbag.  
  
She may have been cut off from her protection, but surely she had friends somewhere, Anthea wondered to herself.  
  
As they reach the city, Anthea directs the driver to a late-night cafe, deciding to be a human being rather than a government official, and turning her head to look at Miss Adler, she quietly asks, "Milk and sugar?"  
  
The other woman glances at her, "What?"  
  
"Do you take milk and sugar?"  
  
A pause.  
  
"If it's tea... just milk. Coffee, two sugars."  
  
Anthea's smile is a degree warmer than her usual civil demeanour, "I think some tea is called for. I'll bring a cup to you in here where it's warmer."  
  
Irene looks away again out the opposite window, and Anthea makes no further effort to be friendly.  
  
With that, she exits the car and enters the cafe, steadying herself as best she can mentally. It would be incredibly easy for her to allow her defenses to drop, for her to be charmed by this woman like so many others, including a MOD employee and even the great Sherlock Holmes.  
  
Bearing down that bit more, she pushes any thought of him from her mind. If she wandered down that winding path, she would not be able to do her job effectively, or at all.  
  
Ordering the drinks takes only a minute and forty seconds, and she cannot help but glance back to the car, expecting the door to be flung open and a woman in black escape across the street after knocking out the driver.  
  
The thought to search her handbag had not crossed her mind, given the late hour and how exhausted she was on an emotional level.  
  
Though after considering this further, she came to the conclusion that Miss Adler herself knew that she would not get far given her attire and impractical shoes. Still, it was always practical to think of alternative scenarios and be forewarned.  
  
After sitting back in the car, she directs the driver to bring them along with a route that ambled by Westminster Abbey, close enough to the River House in case she had to ask Miss Adler any other questions or if she decided to misbehave again.  
  
The two women sit together and drink tea in silence, before Irene chooses to break it after several minutes of driving, asking, "What are you going to do to me?"  
  
Anthea gazes at her over the rim of her cup as she takes a longer sip than intended, gathering her own thoughts, "It's not up to me what happens to you. I don't have the authority to place you under arrest, nor do I have just cause to bring you to the River House for further questioning unless it is deemed absolutely necessary. I am simply instructed to allow you time to decide your next step, feasible or not, it doesn't really matter. I'm only here to ensure that you do not try to cause more damage, and also make sure that while you are under our jurisdiction, that no harm will come to you."  
  
Miss Adler huffs a laugh, "So what you're saying is that you're not going to lock me up, but you aren't going to protect me either?"  
  
Anthea nods, "That is about right, yes."  
  
"I feel so reassured."  
  
Anthea remains prim and enigmatic, blowing on the steam rising from her take away cup.  
  
Miss Adler taps her fingernails on the sides of her cup as she regards her fellow passenger like so many others Anthea had escorted before, trying to figure her out, "You're close to the Iceman Holmes, aren't you? He seems to melt a little bit around you, which is something, given a man who has so many... interesting foibles."  
  
The calm expression remains in place, "You can speculate all you want, Miss Adler if it passes the time in an amusing fashion. Right now, I have a job to do."  
  
"Oh, come on, dear. Indulge me a little bit. I won't be having fun or misbehaving for a long, long time..."  
  
Her eyes flick down and up Anthea's body as she sits beside her, the lights of the street illuminating her form as they pass overhead, "You're definitely a vanilla, missionary girl."  
  
Almost on cue, Anthea begins coughing as her tea chooses to go down the wrong way, having been surprised by a sudden switch in the conversation, which makes Miss Adler chuckle gleefully, "Someone is flustered. How sweet."  
  
She manages to catch her breath, giving the woman an annoyed look, "I am not sure you can tell what a person... enjoys just by looking at them."  
  
"I can tell a lot, and the rest is certainly more... tactile and a lot more fun, I will admit. You've surely read my file? Looked me up?"  
  
Anthea raises an eyebrow, "I've done some research."  
  
"What did you think?"  
  
All she does is drink her tea to soothe the irritated sensation in her throat, "What many others think, I'm sure. I'm not so different from the ordinary people."  
  
Miss Adler smirks, "Are you sure you're not a politician?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. I've been told my diplomacy is a high grade, and I'm not au fait with blackmail or being blackmailed."  
  
She gives a sidelong glance to her fellow passenger, who responds with a 'cat who's got the cream' smile.  
  
Being in the Woman's company, she begins to understand in some small way why she was so sought after, but the charm spell would not be so effective.  
  
So she chooses to pull a large piece of her hair from behind her ear and use it as an ineffectual barrier so Miss Adler would not observe her rosey cheeks or detect the catch in her breathing.  
  
Irene continues in a voice that is entirely seductive, much like her manner earlier in the evening, "Oh, I like you. I think you would have come in handy if we had met before all this happened. Another sweet, little posh one to have fun with. One more and I'd have a set."  
  
Managing not to squirm in her seat, Anthea manages to mumble, "I don't think my tastes are that adventurous, as you observed yourself earlier."  
  
"It doesn't mean that you're not curious. You might surprise yourself, but we will never know, will we?"  
  
Anthea drinks the last of her tea, licking her lips in an innocent fashion, "As diverting as all of this is, I'm not going to confine you to the backseat of a car all night. Is there somewhere I can drop you off?"  
  
Miss Adler smirks again, and reaches into her bag, taking out her phone and makes a call, her voice low and cajoling, "Kate... it's me. I've had a bit of a slip-up and I need to come by. No, I'm not hurt, I'll explain more when I'm there... I just need you right now... really, very badly..."  
  
Anthea looks down at her own phone, doing her best not to listen in, despite being told to report back regarding any contact Miss Adler made. There would be increased surveillance on the address in any case, so she allowed Miss Adler some privacy.  
  
As she hangs up, Irene thumps her head against the headrest, shutting her eyes, and after sighing out a long rush of air, she gives directions to the driver and they reach the place where Miss Adler's contact presumably lived.  
  
She vaguely recalls a maid being treated for a mild concussion following the incident at the house in Belgravia, but there were hardly any details on the woman in question that would even fill a page in a file.  
  
The front door of the brownstone is lit up and swiftly opens on their arrival, a woman in a pale green satin dressing gown and vivid red hair standing framed in the archway, waiting.  
  
Before she exits the car, Miss Adler turns to Anthea one last time, and in a move that is completely unexpected, she reaches into her handbag and takes out a tube of lipstick, reaching over and pressing it into her hand.  
  
"Just something to remember me by. Next time you're having someone, it might spice things up for you."  
  
Stunned, she manages to utter, "Thank you... and for what it's worth... woman to woman... your situation is unfortunate and I hope you can find your way forward somehow."  
  
It is a betrayal of her duty and showing her hand, but she cannot help but be kind one last time.  
  
Miss Adler smiles at her, a genuine, grateful smile, "Thanks, kitten. You were actually decent to me and such an entertaining diversion. I won't be forgetting you in a hurry."  
  
A pause as she opens the door, and looks back over her shoulder, "I hope the Holmes boys know they've got a gem on their hands. Hopefully, they won't crush you, too."  
  
With that word and a final flirtatious wink, she gracefully exits the car without looking back, and the moment she sees Kate abandons all pretense and runs towards her, embracing her tightly.  
  
After shaking herself from being stunned by Irene's final words to her, Anthea watches through the window for a few more seconds, taking note of the address, sending the surveillance instructions, and updating Mycroft as instructed.  
  
The lipstick is placed inside her coat pocket, and as the Bentley drives off into the night, she makes a silent wish that Miss Adler's end would not be so calculated as what she faced tonight.  
  
Even in her line of work, it never hurt to hope just a little.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the devastating unlocking of her phone, Irene Adler has been left deserted. 
> 
> After observing this scene in her hidden place, Anthea must step in and pick up the pieces as best she can, to take on the role of the dutiful government official.

There is scarcely time to decompress or deal with her mounting emotions. The night was far from over, thanks in part to what just transpired and she would not be dealing with a long list of demands, rather transporting a distraught, ruined woman to a place where she could figure out her next move.  
  
Whether they would take her into custody or not, she was not even certain. It all depended now on the extent of Mycroft's mercy, and it was in short supply this night.  
  
It was the rarest moment of co-operation between Mycroft and Sherlock that she had seen with her own eyes, and it was not sitting right with her, much like a cannonball weighing in the pit of her stomach.  
  
They had succeeded in retrieving the phone of scandalous secrets and information, the insurance that Miss Adler held over so many men of authority, but had left her defenseless in their wake.  
  
She would have to deal with that at a later juncture, for a moment later, Mycroft says her name just once, and she pushes in the door after hastily retrieving her own black coat, her expression a frozen mask of warm politeness.  
  
Given the turmoil that had only just been quelled internally, she can only bring herself to look towards Miss Adler after a mental count of five and can only nod as she is given instructions to take a car to a more discrete location and to check in before the night was over, not trusting the burning lump in her throat that would cause her voice to crack.  
  
"I see no reason as to incarcerate this woman or cause her any more distress. On the strict promise that she will not cause any more issues, she is free to leave."  
  
Mycroft's tone is a touch more civil than before, and it may have been mistakenen for kindness once upon a time. But she knew from his entire posture that he was subtly triumphant, but would not laud it over Miss Adler. He was not the show-off in the family, after all.  
  
He looks to Miss Adler, and delivers one last parting remark, "You played a mighty game, Miss Adler. But even the mightiest foes can be defeated. I bear you no ill will beyond this night. Whatever the future holds for you, I wish you well."  
  
Miss Adler's face twists into a grimace and she turns away, walking on unsteady legs back towards the table, leaning against it and clumsily retrieving her handbag, not saying a word.  
  
Mycroft does not appear deterred, only whispers to Anthea, "Make sure she does not make an attempt to escape your care for this short time. Ensure that there is a grade 4 active status placed on wherever she chooses to be dropped off. I want to know her movements and who she is in contact with. No more surprises, understood?"  
  
She manages to reply to him with a quiet 'Yes, sir' and he excuses himself from the room, departing presumably to his study, already on his own mobile to make some more phone calls to those in higher authority to deliver some measure of good news.  
  
Alone with Miss Adler, she gives the other woman a moment before she approaches, and as she turns around, the tear tracks glimmer in the lamplight, but she raises her chin in a show of defiance.  
  
Still ready for battle...  
  
All she does is put a kindly arm around her, saying gently, "It's getting late and we have a bit to go still. Come with me."  
  
Sensing the trembling that has only intensified since both men have left the room, she drapes her coat around her shoulders, which Irene holds onto without putting her arms into the sleeves.  
  
Miss Adler offers no resistance or argument in those few seconds, allowing herself to be led through the room, out the main door, and outside into the night, where Anthea allows her to get into the Bentley without any real hassle, and driving into the night.  
  
There is a palpable silence in the car, with only the sound of the engine, the wind rushing by and the clicking of the indicator as the driver made a few turns on the journey.  
  
Irene Adler did not ask for any assistance, nor did she beg to be saved or even try to appeal to Anthea as another woman who may take pity on her. The time for any favours had long since passed.  
  
Her tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, her arms remained tightly around her middle, hugging in tightly with the nails of her left hand digging into her right upper arm.  
  
Anthea types on her phone and does not attempt to make conversation or suggest avenues or options for her passenger. It was only her task to ensure that Miss Adler did not cause any more strife or troubles for the government anymore. It would seem that without her camera-phone, she was helpless, though she was still in possession of her personal mobile phone in her black handbag.  
  
She may have been cut off from her protection, but surely she had friends somewhere, Anthea wondered to herself.  
  
As they reach the city, Anthea directs the driver to a late-night cafe, deciding to be a human being rather than a government official, and turning her head to look at Miss Adler, she quietly asks, "Milk and sugar?"  
  
The other woman glances at her, "What?"  
  
"Do you take milk and sugar?"  
  
A pause.  
  
"If it's tea... just milk. Coffee, two sugars."  
  
Anthea's smile is a degree warmer than her usual civil demeanour, "I think some tea is called for. I'll bring a cup to you in here where it's warmer."  
  
Irene looks away again out the opposite window, and Anthea makes no further effort to be friendly.  
  
With that, she exits the car and enters the cafe, steadying herself as best she can mentally. It would be incredibly easy for her to allow her defenses to drop, for her to be charmed by this woman like so many others, including a MOD employee and even the great Sherlock Holmes.  
  
Bearing down that bit more, she pushes any thought of him from her mind. If she wandered down that winding path, she would not be able to do her job effectively, or at all.  
  
Ordering the drinks takes only a minute and forty seconds, and she cannot help but glance back to the car, expecting the door to be flung open and a woman in black escape across the street after knocking out the driver.  
  
The thought to search her handbag had not crossed her mind, given the late hour and how exhausted she was on an emotional level.  
  
Though after considering this further, she came to the conclusion that Miss Adler herself knew that she would not get far given her attire and impractical shoes. Still, it was always practical to think of alternative scenarios and be forewarned.  
  
After sitting back in the car, she directs the driver to bring them along with a route that ambled by Westminster Abbey, close enough to the River House in case she had to ask Miss Adler any other questions or if she decided to misbehave again.  
  
The two women sit together and drink tea in silence, before Irene chooses to break it after several minutes of driving, asking, "What are you going to do to me?"  
  
Anthea gazes at her over the rim of her cup as she takes a longer sip than intended, gathering her own thoughts, "It's not up to me what happens to you. I don't have the authority to place you under arrest, nor do I have just cause to bring you to the River House for further questioning unless it is deemed absolutely necessary. I am simply instructed to allow you time to decide your next step, feasible or not, it doesn't really matter. I'm only here to ensure that you do not try to cause more damage, and also make sure that while you are under our jurisdiction, that no harm will come to you."  
  
Miss Adler huffs a laugh, "So what you're saying is that you're not going to lock me up, but you aren't going to protect me either?"  
  
Anthea nods, "That is about right, yes."  
  
"I feel so reassured."  
  
Anthea remains prim and enigmatic, blowing on the steam rising from her take away cup.  
  
Miss Adler taps her fingernails on the sides of her cup as she regards her fellow passenger like so many others Anthea had escorted before, trying to figure her out, "You're close to the Iceman Holmes, aren't you? He seems to melt a little bit around you, which is something, given a man who has so many... interesting foibles."  
  
The calm expression remains in place, "You can speculate all you want, Miss Adler if it passes the time in an amusing fashion. Right now, I have a job to do."  
  
"Oh, come on, dear. Indulge me a little bit. I won't be having fun or misbehaving for a long, long time..."  
  
Her eyes flick down and up Anthea's body as she sits beside her, the lights of the street illuminating her form as they pass overhead, "You're definitely a vanilla, missionary girl."  
  
Almost on cue, Anthea begins coughing as her tea chooses to go down the wrong way, having been surprised by a sudden switch in the conversation, which makes Miss Adler chuckle gleefully, "Someone is flustered. How sweet."  
  
She manages to catch her breath, giving the woman an annoyed look, "I am not sure you can tell what a person... enjoys just by looking at them."  
  
"I can tell a lot, and the rest is certainly more... tactile and a lot more fun, I will admit. You've surely read my file? Looked me up?"  
  
Anthea raises an eyebrow, "I've done some research."  
  
"What did you think?"  
  
All she does is drink her tea to soothe the irritated sensation in her throat, "What many others think, I'm sure. I'm not so different from the ordinary people."  
  
Miss Adler smirks, "Are you sure you're not a politician?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. I've been told my diplomacy is a high grade, and I'm not au fait with blackmail or being blackmailed."  
  
She gives a sidelong glance to her fellow passenger, who responds with a 'cat who's got the cream' smile.  
  
Being in the Woman's company, she begins to understand in some small way why she was so sought after, but the charm spell would not be so effective.  
  
So she chooses to pull a large piece of her hair from behind her ear and use it as an ineffectual barrier so Miss Adler would not observe her rosey cheeks or detect the catch in her breathing.  
  
Irene continues in a voice that is entirely seductive, much like her manner earlier in the evening, "Oh, I like you. I think you would have come in handy if we had met before all this happened. Another sweet, little posh one to have fun with. One more and I'd have a set."  
  
Managing not to squirm in her seat, Anthea manages to mumble, "I don't think my tastes are that adventurous, as you observed yourself earlier."  
  
"It doesn't mean that you're not curious. You might surprise yourself, but we will never know, will we?"  
  
Anthea drinks the last of her tea, licking her lips in an innocent fashion, "As diverting as all of this is, I'm not going to confine you to the backseat of a car all night. Is there somewhere I can drop you off?"  
  
Miss Adler smirks again, and reaches into her bag, taking out her phone and makes a call, her voice low and cajoling, "Kate... it's me. I've had a bit of a slip-up and I need to come by. No, I'm not hurt, I'll explain more when I'm there... I just need you right now... really, very badly..."  
  
Anthea looks down at her own phone, doing her best not to listen in, despite being told to report back regarding any contact Miss Adler made. There would be increased surveillance on the address in any case, so she allowed Miss Adler some privacy.  
  
As she hangs up, Irene thumps her head against the headrest, shutting her eyes, and after sighing out a long rush of air, she gives directions to the driver and they reach the place where Miss Adler's contact presumably lived.  
  
She vaguely recalls a maid being treated for a mild concussion following the incident at the house in Belgravia, but there was hardly any details on the woman in question that would even fill a page in a file.  
  
The front door of the brownstone is lit up and swiftly opens on their arrival, a woman in a pale green satin dressing gown and vivid red hair standing framed in the archway, waiting.  
  
Before she exits the car, Miss Adler turns to Anthea one last time, and in a move that is completely unexpected, she reaches into her handbag and takes out a tube of lipstick, reaching over and pressing it into her hand.  
  
"Just something to remember me by. Next time you're having someone, it might spice things up for you."  
  
Stunned, she manages to utter, "Thank you... and for what it's worth... woman to woman... your situation is unfortunate and I hope you can find your way forward somehow."  
  
It is a betrayal of her duty and showing her hand, but she cannot help but be kind one last time.  
  
Miss Adler smiles at her, a genuine, grateful smile, "Thanks, kitten. You were actually decent to me and such an entertaining diversion. I won't be forgetting you in a hurry."  
  
A pause as she opens the door, and looks back over her shoulder, "I hope the Holmes boys know they've got a gem on their hands. Hopefully, they won't crush you, too."  
  
With that word and a final flirtatious wink, she gracefully exits the car without looking back, and the moment she sees Kate abandons all pretense and runs towards her, embracing her tightly.  
  
After shaking herself from being stunned by Irene's final words to her, Anthea watches through the window for a few more seconds, taking note of the address, sending the surveillance instructions, and updating Mycroft as instructed.  
  
The lipstick is placed inside her coat pocket, and as the Bentley drives off into the night, she makes a silent wish that Miss Adler's end would not be so calculated as what she faced tonight.  
  
Even in her line of work, it never hurt to hope just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can probably tell, I am a huge fan of the Scandal in Belgravia episode of Sherlock, and it's only right that I imagine Anthea being involved in her own way, albeit in an alternate universe where the characters that myself and my friends have written are able to exist.
> 
> Being able to cast my mind back to those crucial scenes, to put myself in Anthea's place was not difficult, especially since her loyalty to Mycroft is without question and surely, the Bond Air operation being thwarted would have resonated with many in the service, least of all Anthea as his most trusted aide.
> 
> While we only caught a glimpse of Mycroft's turmoil, it would be my hope that he would request assistance in this scenario, especially when it was so delicate and potentially catastrophic.
> 
> Please watch this space for another chapter, and possibly two more that are pure imaginings following the phone unlocking scene. Thank you for reading!


End file.
